


Oath

by Merciless_Eden



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: A bit of buildup, Ghost Being Soft, Hurt/Comfort, Jaxton belongs to me, Jaxton's also an arse, M/M, Original Character(s), Physical Abuse, Protective Soap, Their love takes time but it gets there, Warning for abuse, cute ghost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23936488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merciless_Eden/pseuds/Merciless_Eden
Summary: A long day of running practice drills has just ended, and MacTavish decides to head in. After a chance encounter with an old friend, he realizes something isn't quite right with his lieutenant.
Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55





	1. Dull Blade

"Left, left! Left, right, left!"

"Left, left! Left, right, left!"

The unit of trainees for Task Force 141 cheered as they jogged laps. Soap led them in their yelling, forcing the men to breathe with each word they forced out of their lungs.

"Louder!" He screamed back at them. "Cadence!" He wasn't going to let this training session down easy. "Left! Left! Left, right, left!"

"Left! Left! Left, right, left!" The unit shouted after him.

In MacTavish's eyes, the track was hazy and played a long road of torment for each foot that crashed down onto it to propel the trainee forward. The Captain was working them hard today. "Left! Left! Left, right! Right! Right! Right, left!" The unit once again strained their throats to yell copies of their Captain's screams. John glanced to his right and saw the masked face of his lieutenant. He could see the determination in his eyes - the drive, the willpower to keep running just behind his Captain. He knew Ghost must be drenched in sweat under that mask and decided to stop the running for his sake.

When the unit had slowed to a walk, Soap could see all of the trainees' sides heaving. Even Ghost was breathing a little harshly. Soap wasn't exhausted per se, but it was only the second week of training for the trainees and he didn't want anyone collapsing yet. So, in an act of mercy, he commanded a stop and ended the session.

"All of you are dismissed. Go take showers, you smell like hogs!" Soap said, watching the trainees flinch and scatter like scared mice. Ghost stayed. He wasn't like the trainees. He knew Soap well. "Ey, Captain? John?" Ghost asked, panting heavily as he walked back onto the track with his Captain.

"Yes, Ghost?" Soap asked, putting an arm around the lad's shoulders and leading him down towards the housing for the trainees and themselves.

"Would you mind if I-" Ghost started, but Soap interrupted him.

"Took the rest of the day off?" Soap asked simply. Ghost nodded nervously. "You've asked every day this week and we're halfway through with it." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is something going on with you?"

"N-No... Of course not." Ghost shook his head, gripping his side from what Soap assumed was the running.

"Are you sure?" Soap turned and stopped Simon, facing the lieutenant towards him. "Ghost-... Simon. If there's something going on with you, please tell me. You've asked me to let you off night training every day for the past weeks and even every few days before that."

"Please, John. I'm just not feeling well is all." Ghost was almost begging now. John sighed.

"Fine. But if something's happening to you, then please know that I'm here to help. You're not just my lieutenant, you're my friend. Now get lost and take a shower."

"Thanks, Captain." Ghost seemed to smile - to genuinely smile - behind that mask. He jogged off, getting a small burst of energy back.

Soap sighed again, this time less in irritation and more in worry. He watched Simon jog off, others stepping out of the way to let him through. They knew Ghost well, too. He was a man they needed to let by; a man they needed to respect.

Soap looked away, hating to find himself staring, and walked away to his own quarters. He passed an open door in the hall, which caught his interest with ease. He poked his head out and looked around, seeing his fellow Captain nearby, smoking a cigarette. It was half-finished, which Soap took as the Captain having been there for a while. "Oi." He called to the man, who looked up.

"Aye?" The other Captain asked. John knew this man almost as well as he knew Price or Simon. This man's name was Jaxton. He had been a part of Task Force 141 for a while now and helped out in training sessions when either Soap couldn't show up or he simply wanted another person around that had a similar way of life as himself. They both laughed about similar things and shared what was close to the same amount of experience in combat and other military matters.

"Aye?" Jaxton asked, eyeing Soap as he walked towards him.

"Isn't that bad for yer' health, mate?" John humored the idea of Jaxton not smoking for once.

"I know." Jaxton's voice edged.

"Somethin' bothering you?" Soap asked, leaning on the brick wall beside Jaxton.

"Nah." Was the only response John got.

"Well, I'm not shallow. You and Ghost both look nervous out yer' boots." Soap caught the glint in Jaxton's eyes at that statement.

"Is he, now? Well, maybe I could ask him, too. Where did he go?" Jaxton asked, his attention now focused less on the cigarette and more on Soap.

"Back to his quarters. After a shower, of course." John answered. Jaxton tossed the cigarette onto the ground and crushed it under his boot.

"I'll see you soon, MacTavish." Jaxton flicked his wrist back at Soap as he walked back inside.

Soap sighed and looked back down at the crushed cigarette. "This is going to kill ye' one day." He whispered, pushing himself off the wall and walking inside after Jaxton. But, as expected of the Captain, he was already gone. Jaxton had a knack for that - disappearing and appearing like a ghost. Simon did, as well, although Jaxton could disappear down the longest hallway and be found on the other side of the base.

Soap found himself staring down the empty hallway for a moment before looking back and taking a step towards the door. He reached out and closed it, shook it to ensure that it was locked, and then let go. A huff left his mouth as he walked down the hall. It looked emptier than it usually did this time of day. Nonetheless, Soap's mind found itself wondering about Simon more than anything else.

He didn't know why, but Simon was worsening as of late. His endurance was shortening, his body weakening. He lost his breath much easier and seemed to be even less social than he was before, which wasn't much in the first place. Soap found himself wondering what was really going on under that mask. What was happening with Simon? Why was he losing everything he ever took pride in? Why was he giving in and crumpling like a wad of paper?

Part of Soap didn't want to believe his ears when he heard Simon in his quarters crying one night a few days ago. He was a hard bastard, Soap had never seen or heard his lieutenant cry. Something was changing about the masked man and he didn't know how to describe it. Nor did he even know what it was or could be.

"I need to sleep..." John whispered, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes. His head was beginning to hurt with all this worry. It was a dull pain, one he was used to but still didn't want there. With the turn of his room's doorknob, he walked into his own private quarters and turned to close and lock the door. He needed a shower, as well.

"In the mornin'..." He whispered, the bed calling him more than the shower. "First thing in the mornin'..."

He plopped down on his bed, unstrapped his belt and tossed it to the side with his boots. His shirt soon joined them and Soap laid back in his bed. One last sigh escaped him before he laid down for the nap he needed badly. He was adjusted to this so far, and knew he'd wake up an hour before it was time for night training. Maybe he could sneak a shower then. But, for now, he decided to take a break.

And, with that, he let the lulling aura of sleep swallow him whole.


	2. I Promise

Last night's training had been a blast.

"I really wish you had been there, Simon." John chuckled, walking up towards the track for another set of morning training. The unit was behind them as always, quietly chatting among themselves as they walked up the slope towards the running track.

"Well... Heh... It would have been nice to go and train a little, but I just needed some rest." Ghost muttered.

"We just played a little dodgeball. It was to better some of our trainees' reflexes. I even jumped in the last round and took some of the ones that needed a win under their belts. We beat the rest of 'em." John smiled.

"That... Sounds really nice..." Simon's mood was dropping more by the day. John didn't know how, but he wanted to help him. He felt a need to.

"Well, anyway... We're just doing the normal ten laps 'round the track. That's a two and a half mile run." John said, this time loud enough for the trainees to hear. Some cursed under their breaths and others let out audible groans. Ghost said nothing. For a while, Soap was, too. When they reached the top, however, John looked to Simon again. "Are you up for it?"

"Yeah..." Ghost nodded slowly. He was wearing a simple bandana over his mouth and nose today, accompanied by the shades. "I've got this."

"Platoon!" John turned on his heels and yelled. The trainees scrambled to get in their places. Ghost took his place as the third squad's leader. "Attention!" They followed. "Right, face!" The next order was followed almost flawlessly. A spark of pride shown in Soap's eyes. He marched to his place at the front and middle of the platoon formation. "Keep in formation this run. If you need a break, ask to fall out. But try to keep going strong until the second mile. Lieutenant!" With the last word, Simon went to John's side and the man behind him covered his position as the third squad's leader.

"Forward, march!" Soap yelled, taking a step forward with his left foot and all else copying. After a few steps, he called, "On the double time! March!" And they started to run. Again, like last time, cadence was called.

"Left! Left! Left, right, left!" Soap yelled. The unit copied. One lap done. Then the second. Third, fourth, fifth, and sixth. Seventh and eighth. Even ninth.

But there, on the tenth lap, Soap realized this was the farthest they had ever gone as a platoon. It was a normal run for experienced members such as Ghost and himself, but these trainees were finally beginning to get the strength and speed they needed to survive out there. Another glimmer of pride sparked in MacTavish's eyes.

But then, Soap heard a yell and several crashes, felt something brush his right leg. He looked back, and turned back to sprint when he saw what had happened.

Ghost was on the ground, laying there still. He was twitching slightly and his chest was heaving for air. "Simon!" John heard himself yell. He sprinted with whatever strength he had left back to his lieutenant. He knelt beside him, shooing the trainees to back up. "Simon," He urged gently, leaning over the male. "Simon, talk to me."

John felt his heart skip with hope when he saw Simon's eyes pry themselves open. "I-I... 'm okay... 'm fine..." He said, trying to get up. John gently pushed him back down.

"No, you're not. Stay down. That's an order, Lieutenant." Soap said, a little harsher than he meant to. "Now tell me what's wrong. Drop your pride for once."

"C... Can't... Breathe..." Ghost choked out.

"Just focus on it, then. Do I need to get a medic?" John asked, checking the lieutenant's pulse. It was going mad.

"N-No!" Simon exclaimed. Soap raised an eyebrow at that.

"Prove it. Count backwards from ten." He ordered, although not unkindly.

"Ten... Nine... Eight... Six... No- Seven... Six... Five... Four and 'tree... two... One..." Ghost managed.

"Fine." Soap huffed. He looked up at the trainees. Some were worried, others confused. "You're all dismissed."

Ghost got up slowly while Soap was speaking. He was dizzy and leaning every which way, but maintained whatever balance possible. John sighed as the trainees nervously left. Some of them had tripped over Ghost and were rubbing their scraped legs.

"Simon..." John said, watching as his friend limped away.

"I'm fine, John!" Ghost snapped back. He was passing the small brick shack by the entrance to the track area when John grabbed his wrists and pushed him up against the wall.

"No. I know you're not." John said, holding Simon there even through the glare he got from behind the sunglasses.

"I am." Simon half growled. He was starting to twitch and fidget.

"Why didn't you want a medic?" Soap asked. He saw Ghost's sides still heaving for air and moved a hand down to rest on his side. "And if you still can't breathe, then-" But he was cut off by a cry of pain from Simon. His wrist was grabbed and pulled away from Simon's side. Simon's grip tightened on John's wrist.

"D-Don't... Touch that..." Simon panted, his grimace now one of pain. John pulled his hand free of Simon's and looked him straight in the eyes. He could see pain and some fear in the shaded eyes that were looking back at him.

John's eyes and hand both slowly trailed down to Simon's side. "John-" Ghost was about to speak, but Soap cut him off.

"Save your breath." He said, reaching down to pull the tucked in shirt out of Ghost's shorts and hook his fingers under the hem. He lifted it slowly, careful not to let it touch Simon's skin. What he saw brought a new look into his eyes - sadness. There was a dark bruise on Simon's side. By lifting the other side of the lieutenant's shirt, he could see it wasn't the only one.

"Simon..." John whispered. No response from the male. He was looking down in shame, his lips quivering. With another gentle but swift motion, Soap pulled the long-sleeved shirt over Simon's head. The lieutenant hissed in pain as the sweat stained sleeves were peeled off of his bruised arms. John's eyes voided and clouded over with sadness.

"John, I-" Ghost started.

"Who did this?" Soap asked, anger taking over the sadness in his expression.

"What?" Ghost looked up to face John.

"I know you didn't do this to yourself. Who did this to you?" John demanded, desperation in his eyes.

"If I... If I tell you... Do you promise not to get mad at me?" Simon asked nervously. John's response was confident.

"I promise."


	3. Broken Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has never felt this much rage run through him. Fury coursing through his veins, he goes to confront an old friend.

Anger rumbled in Soap's head, beating like a drum.

"I'm going to _kill_ him." He whispered, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw. Never before had he shaken in anger, imagining the man he had grown to trust being held up in a hold on his throat. He imagined watching the life drain from his eyes, the color leaving his face.

"J-John... Please don't do anything crazy." Simon whispered, tugging on MacTavish's sleeve slightly to get his attention. John felt the anger leave him. At least for now.

"How long has this been happening?" He asked Simon softly, opening his arms to offer a hug. Simon took it.

"Just a week and a half." Ghost whispered, hiding his face not only behind the bandana and shades, but in Soap's shoulder.

"And why didn't you tell me? Or someone?" Still, Soap kept his voice soft and kind, knowing that Ghost had been through enough. A harsh tone, even if it wasn't toward him, would only make things worse.

"H-He said... He said if I told someone... Th-That he'd kill them and make me suffer for it." Ghost had to take off the shades to let a few tears fall onto MacTavish's shirt. Soap didn't mind.

"No, no... He's going to be the one to suffer. When does it usually happen?"

"At night training time." By now, Ghost was beginning to tremble.

"That's why you've been asking to take the day off lately?" John found himself reaching up to run his fingers through Simon's hair. Simon nodded.

John sighed. He didn't like the idea of Simon going through this abuse. It was affecting him in horrible ways, the ways that were now beginning to add up. Sadness was filling Soap's soul, but something else burned beside it. _Rage_.

The oath they had taken as recruits. It said to never do harm to one another. It told them to keep an eye out for one another and help each other in a time of need. That oath bonded them as brothers - as family.

_What bullshit._

"I want you to go inside and go to your room. I know where that sorry son of a bitch is." Soap let his tone get out of hand, but Ghost didn't shy away from him.

"C-Can you come with me first?" His voice was trembling almost as much as he was.

"What's the matter?" John reached for his own jacket from the bench and helped Ghost put it on. It was a bit larger than Ghost's training shirt and would help give his arms some air.

"H-He's gotten me in the halls a few times before." Ghost whispered, still clinging onto Soap.

"I'd be happy to accompany you, Lieutenant." He said as a group of Officers passed them. Some were Captains, others a bit higher ranked. Soap didn't care.

With a quick but gentle pull, Soap pulled Ghost away from the track and led him down the hill. Ghost was using the bandana and shades to hide his true emotions, but his tight grip on MacTavish's sleeve was giving some of it away. Soap simply wrapped his arm around Ghost's shoulders as they walked and led Ghost inside towards his room.

"I'm going to lock you inside, okay? For your own safety." Soap said, going to unlock the door and open it. "I don't want you coming out until you hear four knocks, a pause, and a knock, understand? Then you can open the door." Simon nodded at that and went inside.

"Don't do anything crazy." Simon muttered, moving to curl up on his bed and pull the blankets over him. John chuckled as best as he could and reached around to lock the door. He closed it and the lock slid into place. With a shake as a test, he turned and walked away, completely unaware of the set of ears that heard their little exchange and the smirk that followed.

John's footsteps were heavier than his other days. They were fueled with fury. He ended up slamming into the door that led into the back alley were countless crushed cigarettes lay scattered on the ground.

_That bastard isn't here._

And that's when Soap heard the scream from down the hallway. It was familiar and filled with so much fear.

"Ghost..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was kinda short, sorry. I still tried to make the most out of it, though. The next chapter should be up soon and should be a bit longer.


	4. Oasis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience. I know this one has taken far too long to come out. But I've been dealing with four little fluffball kittens, so it's been quite the ride.

"Ghost!"

John yelled as he ran down the hall towards Simon's room. He felt fear, true fear, coursing through his veins like the venom of a snake.

"John!"

Ghost's yell was pain-ridden and panicked.

"John! Help me!"

And it was filled with desperation.

John thundered down the hall, pushing through the resisting air to get to Ghost's room. He knew Jaxton was there, and didn't want to dwell on what he might be doing to Simon. He just wanted to stop it. So he just kept running.

And running...

And running...

But the end of the hallway didn't seem like it was getting any closer. The door didn't seem like it was getting any bigger. Panic was setting in, and John cursed himself. He felt inert, like he was running across a desert towards an oasis that seemed like it was only disappearing. The clock on the wall taunted John, whispering that he was running out of time. This could be it.

No.

It _will_ be it.

There's no reason for this to go on any longer. It shouldn't. Why did it even begin?

John's own footsteps hitting hard against the ground took him back to the track. Hearing Simon collapse behind him was enough to have him skid to a stop and whirl around to help him like his life depended on it. And all the bruises. All the scars.

That was enough to make John's blood boil.

All these memories of the past few days flooded John's mind like the dam that contained them had just given out. It had crashed to the ground and the flood of these horrible memories was filling the valley of Soap's mind quicker than he could bring himself to focus.

What if this was it?

What if he got shot?

Then he'd go down fighting.

"Simon!" John warped back to reality, much closer to the damned door that blocked him from his Lieutenant and fellow Captain.

Simon had stopped calling his name. That only meant things must have gotten worse.

John half crashed into the door, hand going to the knob and violent wrestling it this way and that. To no avail, of course. It was locked. But Soap remembered his training.

John took a deep breath and a step back. He forced himself to center, and his eyes locked on the door. He brought his leg up and, once again, allowed his burning rage and fury to flow through his veins. He kicked the door hard beside the doorknob, and watched it fly open on its hinges.

But what he saw next was a sight he wished he never had to see.

One he wished Simon never had to go through.

"Jaxton!" John yelled, pure fury in his voice. His fellow Captain had pinned the Lieutenant down on the floor, one hand clasped much too tightly around his throat. Simon was still conscious, but barely. His hand was weakly scratching at Jaxton's, trying to get it off of his throat as he coughed and wheezed. Jaxton looked up at John like a hungry bear. John glared back like an angry bull.

"Off him. Now." John snarled, reaching for his gun. Jaxton was quicker. He put his pistol to Simon's head and John stopped dead in his movements. A single bullet of sweat ran down the side of his face.

"No." Jaxton's lips twitched with a smirk. "What are you going to do about it?"

_What was he going to do about it?_

John sprang forward, too quickly for Jaxton to react. He tackled the other Captain to the floor, hand grabbing a fistful of shirt and pulling until there was a loud tear. He heard Simon weakly scramble away, and that left him focused only on the fight.

Jaxton retaliated with a hard punch to the side of John's head, rattling his brain and making the world flash white for a moment. It made him falter and Jaxton seized the opportunity in his fanged jaws. He shoved John off of him and reached for his pistol, which had dropped a few feet away when John tackled him. He grasped it just as John came back to his senses and grabbed his own gun. Both aimed their weapon at the other, but Jaxton lunged forward, as well.

Now John was the one being tackled. Jaxton tried pinning him to the ground, but Soap wasn't going to let that happen to himself. He got a leg under Jaxton and launched him across the room with a hard kick, then scrambled to his feet only to be punched in the jaw. He could feel the crack. Still, he kept fighting.

Jaxton grabbed John and shoved him back into the wall, getting a switchblade from inside his boot. John's hand came up to catch the blade wielding hand just before it got to his shoulder. "Go to hell!" He yelled to Jaxton, putting his other hand to use and smashing it against the other Captain's skull.

He whipped out his own pistol just as Jaxton aimed his again. There were two loud bangs as the guns went off, and John's head started spinning.

"See you there." Jaxton smiled wickedly before collapsing to the floor, blood running and spurting from a wound on his head. John looked down at his chest to see blood running down it. He couldn't help the fact that the blood loss drove him straight to unconsciousness.

He only hoped that Simon was alright.


End file.
